Why are you being nice to me?
“I don’t know.” She goes quiet for a minute. “I guess I just… I don’t think you are what people say you are.”
How would you know that?
“You turned your friends in to the cops,” she says. “That’s something.”
Yeah, but what she doesn’t know is that I question my decision every day. I busy myself with rubbing my board clean so I don’t have to look at her and see that hope in her face, the hope that I’m this good person she imagines me to be, when I know the truth.
Asha’s face flushes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be upset,” she says. “You can leave if you want.”
She disappears into the back, leaving me there to stay or go. Staying is a bad idea, I know. I start to grab my backpack so I can leave, but then I think of what Asha said, how she doesn’t think I’m the person other people say I am. Her words gnaw at my gut. I know I’m not that person, but it’s comforting to know someone else sees me as something more than a bitch or a backstabber.
Besides, I can’t deny the fact that I could really, really use her help with my homework.
I sit back down and slide out my geometry book from my bag. It couldn’t hurt to stay for a little while. If things get weird, I’ll just take off. No harm, no foul.
I flip the book open to tonight’s assignment. I hate math. I hate formulas and functions, especially when letters get involved. It’s so confusing. I don’t know how I’m supposed to relate to numbers. How learning any of this will ever come in handy in real life. Like, will I one day be in the grocery store, comparing the prices of toilet paper, and desperately need to find the square root of x in order to get the best deal? I highly doubt it. Geometry just feels like a waste of time.
My whole life feels like a waste of time.
I’m staring at the open page so hard my eyes cross when Sam walks up with a metal tub of sauce. When I see him, I jump a little, causing the stool to squeak as it turns. He looks even more startled than I feel.